An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

A Poop in Hand is Worth Two in the House?

As I've reported, a couple times before, in the past I've had problems during spring and summer months with birds flying into my home through my open back door. Today I had a visit by an animal of a different sort.

Earlier this morning, I left my office and was walking toward the kitchen when I spied a small link of poop on the floor near the laundry room. It was a cat-sized link, so I deduced that it had been stuck on the cat's butt when she exited the litter box in the nearby bathroom. It probably hung there, dangling from a single strand of human hair that she'd eaten, and had been scraped off onto the floor once she'd discovered it. I got some tissue, gathered the link, dumped it in the toilet and went about my day.

Later in the morning, I decided to step out and enjoy the sun on the deck when I noticed several more turds on the floor near the open back door. It's not likely that that many turds had stuck to the cat's ass, so we must have had a visitor. My guess is that the additional poops were deposited by the friendly dog across the road who has been known to climb the deck steps for visits.

3 comments:

Mama said...

Do you have many frogs around there? We've had tons of rain lately in Texas, and I had the same random turd sighting in my garage, and I thought it was my cat, but as the sighting became more frequent & in no-cat zones, I realized they were frog turds. Who knew frogs could create something so large??

tiny robot said...

Juice, that was so very... descriptive.

Juice said...

No frogs here, though I've had dealings with their poop before.

When I was three years old, I lived on the Pacific island of Guam with my then Navy Lt. father. He built me a sandbox in the yard of our house in which a particular giant bull frog liked to take a dump.

Dad tried covering the box with a sheet of wood, but the frog would be back in there the next day.

Dad then tried weighting down the wood, but the frog would slip under it anyway and crap and crap and crap.

Dad then tried relocating the frog across the street, but it was back in the box the next day.

Dad then put the frog in a bucket and walked him all around the neighborhood, hoping to disorient him, then walked him down the road to an open field and released him there. Frog was back crapping in my sandbox the next day.

At this point, my dad just dismantled the sandbox and surrendered the fight.